


Gunpowder

by whereisharrytruman



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:33:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereisharrytruman/pseuds/whereisharrytruman
Summary: Just a bunch of one-shots and continuations!!





	Gunpowder

There were no other cars on the back road they took, and all Dean saw up ahead were the short lines that separated the two lane highway. He usually would have music playing so he wouldn't go insane, but he didn't want to keep the toddler you were holding awake. The poor little girl had had a rough day; actually, that was an understatement. Her mother had been killed by a ghoul (luckily not in front of her daughter), and the brothers had found her alone and crying in the upstairs closet once they exterminated the monster. She was immediately terrified of Sam, so Dean had to pick her up. He brought her to the motel you were waiting behind at, and you instantly brought her into your arms and calmed her down. You were able to get her to talk some, finding out her name was Marisol and she was three years old. Sam did some research on her mother and was able to find that Marisol had an aunt in the next state over. 

So here they were, Sammy passed out in the front seat, you in the back holding and rocking Marisol to sleep as you sang softly to her. Dean would glance in the rear view mirror to watch you, your focus entirely on Marisol. He knew of the song you were singing but didn't know all of the words. It was the song that went, "Even though we ain't got money..." He liked how sweet your voice sounded. He looked in the mirror again and let himself imagine that you were consoling  _your_ child,  _his_ child. The thought made his heart flutter and his chest swell until he realized he should stop inserting you into his future. It wasn't fair to you, you weren't his and you never will be. You could still have a normal life, with a normal husband, and normal children. He snapped out of his self-loathing when you said something. 

"What was that?" he asked quietly as to not wake Marisol and Sammy. 

"I said sorry you had to listen to my singing. I didn't know how else to get her to sleep," you apologized. That made Dean frown. 

"It's fine," he answered. He glanced over his shoulder for a second and gave you a small smirk. "You're really good with her," he added. You tucked a lose strand back behind Marisol's ear. 

"Thanks. I never really interact with kids, I'm glad I could help her." 

"I don't know what we would've done without you, (Y/N), you've done more than just help," Dean admitted. You tried to suppress a smile at his statement. 

"Just wanna earn my keep," you said lightheartedly. 

"You've earned a nap at this point," Dean chuckled. "You could fall asleep, you haven't slept in awhile," he said seriously. You looked out the window and watched as dark blurs went by. 

"I'm okay. I'll stay up and keep you company," you said. There you go again, making the butterflies in his stomach go crazy. 

"My mom used to sing to me when I was little," Dean told you. 

"Oh, yeah? What songs?" 

"Mostly Beatles songs," he explained. "The one I remember most was 'Hey Jude.'" He looked back at you again and met your eyes. You were looking at the rear view mirror so Dean made eye contact when his eyes darted to it. He held your gaze for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. 

"I don't know all the words to that song," you admitted. "But I know it." 

"That's how I am with the song you were singing. I know the chorus, but I couldn't sing the whole thing."

"It's 'Danny's Song,'" you giggled. "By Kenny Loggins."

"What're you laughing at?" he jokingly accused, his lips forming into a smile. 

"The fact that you don't know it." 

"You don't know 'Hey Jude,'" he countered, letting out a chuckle. 

"Fair enough," you sighed. You looked down when you felt Marisol begin to squirm, her eyes opening slightly. You shushed her and cooed, "It's alright, Mari, you're okay." She settled down a bit but not quite fully. Dean looked back again and could see the toddler become fussy. He listened as you tried to calm her down, but after a minute passed and she still hadn't settled down, he decided to try and help. 

"'Even though we ain't got money,'" he sang lowly, hoping he was loud enough for you to hear and get the hint. He waited a moment for your reaction, and the fact that he didn't know what came after that line. Your voice broke the silence. 

"'I'm so in love with you honey,'" you finished softly, rocking Marisol back and forth, the girl's face buried into the crook of your neck. You continued to sing, even after Marisol had fallen back to sleep, your voice the only sound in the Impala.

Dean leaned back in his seat and continued to drive, allowing himself a moment to imagine that you were singing to him. 


End file.
